The Five Stages Of You
by orangesunset12
Summary: "So, how would you like to die? Like, if you absolutely had to." Jason cast a look at Dick. "If I had to?" Robin mulled. "Well, it'd have to be something memorable. Something big." "Something big?" "Yeah, like something flashy. Something... explosive."


An excited gasp filled the ornate halls of Wayne Manor.

And yes, Bruce knew how it looked- rich billionaire playboy adopting two little boys in a row? But he really didn't care. He loved them, whether the press or anybody else believed him. And he didn't plan on stopping loving them anytime soon.

Bruce smiled at his new son, who was quickly touching everything in sight.

"You're, like, rolling in dough!" Jason said excitedly. "Man, d'you have... you know... servants?"

"I'm afraid all he has is an old butler, young Master," Alfred remarked drily, appearing from around the corner.

Bruce smiled. "That 'old butler' is all I've ever needed, though, so you're in good hands."

Jason grinned. "Since I'm a master now, do I get to order him around?"

"You can try, sir, but I assure you it won't end well."

The boy didn't linger on this for long, before he was off exploring the various rooms. Bruce chuckled at the numerous expressions he had for each glistening room, unfolding before him like some sacred map. Alfred smiled briefly.

"Master Wayne..." Alfred's voice was pained. "Are you sure you can do him right this time?"

Bruce's eyes, despite him willing them not to, travelled to the picture by the landline. A boy with bright, sparkling blue eyes grinned back at him.

"This time is different," he choked, when he finally found his voice again. "This time... is forever."

* * *

5 minutes.

Jason struggles to breathe. He struggles to see. The corners of his vision blur until the world is just a bright swath of colour, blue and gray and red.

Just you wait, he thinks. Just you wait until Batman sees what you've done to me, then you'll have it!

His mother is beside him, a large blot of peach against the dark warehouse. She's crying.

"Oh god... oh no, it wasn't supposed to be me..."

Jason pushes, but his hands are slick and slippery. He can't sit. He thinks one of his lungs has been punctured, because of all the blood he's been coughing up. But between all that red he still chokes out his fevered dreams.

"He's-"

-cough-

"-right around the corner. He's driving right now, mom, have you seen him? He'll-" -cough-

"-oh, he'll scold me, but I won't... I won't care. He'll beat the Joker up and send him to Arkham..."

-a shuddering, pained breath-

"...forever. For me. He'd do that for me. And then we'll go home and have ice cream with Alfred and Dick will come too, and Bruce and him'll make up and we'll all watch a movie together. And it'll be cramped on the... on the couch..."

Jason's head is fogging. The words are escaping him.

"...but none of us would... care... because it's warm. And we love each other."

With all the strength he had left in his body, Jason turns his head to meet her eyes.

"We're not going to die, mom," he promises. "We're not going to die."

* * *

A punch sent him straight through the thin plaster wall.

Jason groaned, feeling a rib crack under the kevlar. Damn. It was a stupid ambush, and he'd walked right into it.

"My my, the boy wonder's not quite so wonderful now, is he?"

Jason spat at 'Babyface' Barton. "At least my insults don't sound like I'm still in preschool. Oh wait- you probably didn't even graduate!"

"Oh, you'll regret that," Babyface growled, and pulled out a gun. "Not so tough without your bat-sitter here, are you? What would he say if he saw you get so horrendously beaten by someone who didn't graduate preschool?!"

Jason smirked. "So I was right."

And that probably would've gotten him a face full of bullets, had it not been for the shadow that descended and pounced of Barton before he could pull the trigger. Robin tactfully rolled to the side and watched as they brawled on the floor, already sure of the victor.

Sure enough, soon Batman stood over the unconscious form of the criminal, sirens sounding in the distance. And he proceeded to send his protégé a pointed look.

"Look, Batman," he said sheepishly, "I know you sound to wait for you, but honestly, you were taking forever and-"

"-and you could've died here without me," Batman finished, deadpan.

"Died? Me? C'mon, boss, Robin's invincible!"

Batman gave Robin another pointed look.

"...okay, so besides the multiple lacerations that I probably have right now, I always find a way outta trouble."

"You always find a way into it, you mean."

"Very funny." Robin walked over to look at Barton, avoiding Batman's gaze as he usually did when he was going to say something mushy. "Besides... you're always there to save me, anyway. Just like I save you. 'Cause we're partners, right?"

Jason wasn't looking, but he knew Bruce was smiling anyway. "Right. And if you want to catch that movie, we'd better get home soon."

"What? Really?!" Jason grinned. "Aw, Batman, you really do care."

Batman huffed. "Another word and no patrol for a month."

"Okay, I get it, old man. Image is the most important thing, after all."

And so quiet, and under his breath, to the point where Jason could've just imagined it:

"Not the most important thing. Not anymore."

* * *

4 minutes.

His throat has since closed up on him, but it doesn't matter, for he has no more dreams to utter out. Now that the reality is settling, the red rage within him starts to pile up, almost filling him like a balloon.

He is not going to die. He is not going to die!

He's crawling now, determination the only fuel left to burn.

And he has plenty of that.

There are no words left in him so he doesn't say anything. He simply crawls, ignoring the voice in his head saying it was fruitless. He knows it is. He knows, when he reaches that door, that it won't open. But he must try, or else Bruce would be disappointed in him, and Jason Todd _does not disappoint._

Not now. Not when it mattered most.

The floor is slick with his blood, and he almost laughs, because the bleeding makes it easier to move. He half-crawls, half-slithers his way to the door, and the hope within him is bursting out of his chest like a fountain.

There is no other pain he can feel. Only that fountain, spurting his prayers all over the walls.

Pleasebeopenpleasebeopenpleasebeopenpleasebeopen-

He turns the handle.

It is locked.

And he looks back at the room, at the bomb, at his mother sitting there crying like she didn't deserve this for selling him out-

And his throat opens. And the words come out.

"I hate you!" He screams. "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"

* * *

"Boring. Boring. Gross. Girly. Boring."

Dick groaned in frustration. "Just pick one already!"

Jason folded his arms. "I'm trying to find an actually good movie in your dismal collection, so don't excuse me for taking a while."

"You are so high maintenance."

"And you have poor taste," he levelled back. Sighing, he picked up a disk with a green cover. "I guess this will do."

"Alright, put it in so I can finally eat this popcorn!"

An hour and two bowls of popcorn later, they were both quite drowsy and quite content. On screen, a woman was just getting murdered by a possessed green rag, all the while screaming "Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!"

Jason scoffed. "That is the most undignified way to die. Ever."

"Oh really? How 'bout that guy getting stuck in that trashcan and dying of... fumes?"

"Magic trash, Dick, remember?"

"Sorry. This movie doesn't make a lot of sense, does it?"

"Told you you suck at movies."

Dick flicked Jason on the head lazily, then let his head rest of Jason's mop of hair. If he'd had any doubts before about gaining a little brother, they were all gone now. Not since the days of sleeping with Bruce had he felt this warm.

"Anyway," Jason continued, "if I had to die, I wouldn't die so lamely."

"Oh really?" Dick raised an eyebrow. "So, how would you like to die? Like, if you absolutely had to."

"If I had to?" Jason mulled. "Well, it'd have to be something memorable. Something big."

"Something big?"

"Yeah, like something flashy. Something... explosive."

Dick let out a guffaw. "So you want to die in sparkly tights with fireworks in the background?"

"Not 'flashy' like that, stupid," Jason scowled. "Geez. Forget I said anything."

"Chill, little wing, 'm just kidding. It's just, if I had to die, I'd want it to be peaceful, y'know? Like in my sleep, when I'm dreaming of-"

"-Boooooooring," the younger boy interrupted. "And so cliché."

"Fine then," Dick huffed. "If I can't have that, I'd like to die saving the world.

"Wow. Even more cliché."

"Okay, fine, my death fantasies aren't good enough for you. Go back to your fiery explosions and guns then. I actually want to live a long life."

Jason rolled his eyes. "It's not like I don't want to grow old, Dick. Besides, you don't have to worry, cause you'll probably die before me- what with your diet of cereal and chocolate."

"Well, if I did die, would you cry at my funeral."

"I probably wouldn't show up."

Dick put a hand to his heart, his face a mask of exaggerated horror. "What? If you died, I would hold your body-"

"What the- Dick, let me go!"

"- And cry for the rest of my life!" Dick crooned, picking Jason up bridal style.

"Dick, I swear-"

"NOOO!" Dick cried dramatically, running around with (a very annoyed) Jason in tow. "NOOO, JASON, MY FALLEN BROTHER! WHY MUST THE GOOD DIE YOUNG?!"

* * *

3 minutes.

Jason is thinking. He's thinking, please, I don't believe in God, but if there is one out there please help me.

He's thinking, I can't die, because Bruce and Dick and Alfred would be so sad. I don't want them to be sad.

He bangs his head on the door and whispers to himself. He whispers, "if I get out of here, I'll give up chillidogs. I'll give up chocolate. I'll give up movies, I'll give up my blanket, I'll give up chinese take-out and McDonalds and picnics and My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic."

He pushes on the door handle.

He starts to cry.

"Please... please. I'll give up every red thing I own. I'll give up ice cream! I'll give up school! I'll give up friends! I'll give up Robin! Please! Please!"

There is no other sound than his voice. His mother had since fallen silent, tears still streaming down, but no sobs coming out of her throat. Jason looks at her, and thinks:

She's going to die.

He thinks:

I'm going to die.

And he thinks, finally:

I'm Robin. I don't let people die.

"Oh, God... if you can only save one person... she didn't mean to turn me over. She didn't mean to. You see God, I'm Robin. I'm a hero. B-but you already knew that. I save people, but right now I can't save her, o-or me. So please... save her for me. Save her for me."

He slides down the door, waiting for the magic to happen. Or, if not magic, something. The rev of an engine. The blades of a helicopter. The pounding of feet, the feeling of kevlar, a hug, a kiss, a swoosh of a cape.

He has no more to give.

So he waits.

* * *

The night outside was ominous.

Jason watched the stars twinkle in the sky, and he wished with all the world that he was out there. It wasn't fair.

None of it...

"Jason."

Jason spun around, closing the window quickly. Bruce stood in the door frame, light illuminated his darkened silhouette. Jason had never been scared of Bruce, not since the first time he saw him.

But now- well, now things were a bit different.

"Bruce," he mumbled. "I was just going to bed... like you told me to."

Bruce sighed and walked into the room. Jason tensed, but sat down on the bed anyway. Bruce sat next to him.

Another sigh. "Look, Jason... I'm not mad at you."

"Yes, you are. You don't trust me."

"It's not that..."

The second Robin bit his lip. "You think... you really think I did it."

"It's not like that. You've had a rough day-"

"So you're not denying it! You think I pushed him!"

"No," Bruce snapped. "I... I don't have evidence either way, but... Look, Jason, sometimes people make mistakes, and maybe you accidentally-"

"I didn't! I didn't..."

"..."

"...I disappoint you, don't I? You're angry at me, aren't you?"

Bruce widened his eyes. "What? No. It's not like that..."

"Stop saying that! I know I'm not Dick, but I've been trying really hard. He was on the edge! It wasn't my fault! It wasn't my fault..."

"I know," he said, voice shaking. "I know. I'm not saying I don't trust you..."

"...But you don't. It- it's okay, though. I-I'm just a volatile street kid, right? Fine. I'll just... I'll just get out of your hair now, the street's not so bad, really-"

"What?" The man shook his head. "What are you talking about, Jason?"

"You... you're going to ask me to leave, aren't you?"

Bruce let out a breathless laugh. "No, of course not. Look, I don't care what happened out there. You're my son, and you're not going anywhere."

"Really?" Jason's voice was full of doubt.

Bruce cupped Jason's face in his hands, raising his eyes Bruce's own. "Yes. I promise."

"Oh. Ok then," he said, a little embarrassed by the contact. "I'd better... go to bed, now."

"Right. Of course."

Bruce peeled back the blankets and Jason burrowed himself inside the bed, drawing the cover up to his chin. A hand brushed his hair off his forehead and Bruce leaned down for a brief goodnight kiss- which, though Jason would never admit it, was about the only reason he ever followed his bedtime schedule.

"Bruce?"

"Mmm?" Bruce paused from leaving, and turned around. "What is it?"

"If... if I did push him..." The words were mumbled, but clear. "...I'm sorry. I won't ever do that again."

"I know. I trust you." And this time, he meant it.

"Goodnight, Jason."

"G'night... dad..."

And Bruce only had the mildest of heart attacks before gaining his breath again, steadying himself and staring at the little boy who meant the world to him.

He turned off the light.

* * *

2 minutes.

Jason is tired. He doesn't want to sit anymore, but has no strength to lie down. He doesn't want to see anymore, but has no strength to shut his eyelids.

He's so tired he barely wants to breathe. But he still holds on.

Why? He doesn't remember.

He's so tired.

He's so tired.

He's so tired.

It's so dark.

There are no windows, but he thinks it's night-time. He should remember but the hours of the crowbar blurred into one. It could've been days. It could've been a minute.

He tries to count his bruises, the places that hurt, but there are too many. It is everywhere, even inside of him.

He stares at the bomb, and it's smiling at him. It's smiling at him. And everything hurts.

Everything hurts.

Everything hurts.

Everything hurts.

He hates smiles. He hates laughter. How dare they, when he's like this? What is there to smile about? What is there to be happy about?

You're going to die, Jason. Have a smiley-face sticker.

No. No, if he ever gets out of here, he'll hunt the smiling criminal 'till he cries, and then he'll silence him forever.

No, not if he gets out of here, when.

When he gets out of here.

No, if.

Because there are only two minutes left, and the only sounds he's heard is himself and his imagination. And his mother, crying, like she always is.

Jason has no heart to comfort her, because Jason is dying.

Jason is dying.

Jason is dying.

Jason is dying...

* * *

Jason made a face as he concentrated.

Bruce merely raised an eyebrow. "Jason, what are you doing?"

"Shh. I'm preparing."

"I'm going to pull now-"

"No!" Jason frowned. "Just let me... okay, fine. Let's pull."

Alfred, watching from the corner of the room, shook his head. Jason had evidently gotten his enthusiasm for pulling the wishbone from Dick (and he had to be coaxed down from the chandelier when he hadn't gotten the larger half.)

"You know, no matter what Dick told you, channeling good thoughts never actually works," Bruce advised.

Jason scrunched up his nose. "I know that. Why'd you think he always loses these things? I, however, have come up with a solution. Since good thoughts make you lose, all I have to do is channel my bad thoughts about my opponent!"

"Bad thoughts?"

"Oh yes, Bruce. I can say them aloud if you'd like."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Just pull it with me. I'm growing older by the minute."

"Really? I thought there was a limit to how old a person could get-"

"Jason."

"Hey, I was just kidding. Alright- pull!"

They jerked their arms backwards, and the wishbone snapped into two. The momentum was a bit too much for Jason, who pulled very hard, and he fell backwards off his chair.

"I told you, not too hard," Bruce chastised.

Jason's head shot up, however, bearing a victorious grin. "Ha! Keep your advice to yourself, Bruce- I got the larger half. My wish'll come true, and yours won't! All by the power of thinking bad thoughts."

"And I thought Dick was bad," the man muttered under his breath.

Jason closed his eyes briefly and clutched the piece of bone hard against his chest. He mouthed a silent prayer as Bruce watched, faintly amused by the seriousness of it.

"Even my parents didn't take it this seriously," Bruce commented lightly.

Jason didn't open his eyes. "Well, they were used to their wishes coming true. I'm not."

Bruce didn't know how to respond to that.

Eventually, he opened his eyes and put the wishbone down gently on the floor, like it was a sacred object. He sighed and looked up at Bruce.

"It will come true, won't it?" He asked, eyes wide. "It's not just a lie. Right?"

Bruce felt like he had swallowed sandpaper. "I-I don't know, Jason. It's not really a thing I can find out."

"I hope it's real."

"Really? What'd you wish for?"

"If I tell you, will it break the spell?"

Bruce shook his head. "I assure you, it won't."

"Okay." Jason looked down and fiddled with the carpet threads. "You won't laugh at me, will you?"

"Of course not."

"Well... It's just, well, I... is it stupid to wish to live forever?"

Bruce blinked. Of all the wishes he thought Jason would make, that wasn't one of them.

Jason caught the surprise, but mistook it. "I told you it was stupid. I shouldn't have-"

"No, of course it's not stupid," Bruce said hastily. "It was just unexpected, that's all. I thought you'd wish for that new game or something... Why'd you wish for that?"

"Well... I just thought it'd be nice, right? So we could be fighting crime together all the time. And we'd be forever young, too! And I could get to see the future, with hover-boards and stuff, and it'd be so cool, and when you lose an arm we could replace it with a robot arm, and you could become a cyborg!"

"Whoa, whoa- what makes you think I'd be immortal too?"

"Because Batman's already immortal," Jason sighed, as if it were obvious. "Duh."

"So your wish is for us to be together forever?"

"Well, it sounds stupid when you put it like that," Jason snapped, a blush rising in his cheeks.

Bruce let out a small laugh. "You know what?"

"What?"

"Somehow," Bruce said, "I think that wish is going to come true."

* * *

1 minute.

Jason no longer pushes the handle. He knows it's locked, and he knows he has no means to unlock it. He knows he can't get out by himself, and that he probably won't get out at all.

That's okay. He had a good life. That's okay.

He thinks back to Catherine and her slow strokes across his face, in her momentarily clear phases between all the muddled darkness that swallowed her. He tries to feel her hand, but only conjures up a rougher hand, larger, but no less kind.

Bruce. He only thinks of Bruce.

He'd be so... sad. Jason would be blown up, and Bruce would be sad, and Jason didn't want that. He didn't want Batman to be alone. Batman needs a Robin... Bruce needs Jason...

But sometimes needs aren't met. Sometimes, rights are taken away from you. Jason knows that. Jason felt that.

But right now... Bruce needs someone to catch him after the fall. He needs someone to take him in.

Someone who doesn't push too hard and let someone fall. Someone who doesn't pull too hard and fall themselves. Someone better than him.

Bruce... needs a Robin.

And he thinks, what would have happened if I'd never stolen those tires?

And he thinks, what would have happened if I'd never gone after my mother?

And he realises, it doesn't matter. None of it.

He sends one last prayer up into the void, and starts to inch his way towards his mother. He wants warmth. He wants someone.

He puts his arms around her, and whispers "I love you. I love you. I love you." And although he isn't talking to her, it soothes her anyway.

And he pictures in his head a perfect memory.

And he hears the rev of an engine in the distance.

And he sees the bomb reach zero.

And he closes his eyes.

* * *

("Jason," Batman choked. "Jason, how did it end up this way?")

* * *

 **Okay, so I know I should be updating Just The Way We Are, but I can't help it! My brain refuses to work on one thing at a time! Anyway, lots of stuff I need to cover here:**

 **The title, and the story content, is an allusion to the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. Each of the minutes corresponds to this (although really, only if you looked for it.)**

 **For some reason I decided to make this in the same universe as two of my other stories:**

 **One Call Away**

 **Circumstance**

 **This becomes weirder when I realised I didn't even make those two stories connected before, but hey, the mind does what it does. If you haven't read those, the first line is a straight copy of the first line of One Call Away, and the last line is from Circumstance. Hope you check them out!**

 **Anyway, thanks for reading this story (and this looong A/N), and hope you leave a like/follow/review! You guys are the best!**


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